Midnight
by Poledra182
Summary: The next generation of Charmed Ones take on the charmed legacy in a world where Witches are hunted by humans and every decision is life or death.
1. Alone in the Dark

"Honey, I'm home," Patricia, or Trish as her family called her, yelled through the Halliwell manor.

Her arms were filled with several paper bags that contained groceries, and most of the lights were off inside the home.

She kicked the front door closed with her foot and set the groceries down on a table in the living room so she could lock the door. It probably didn't do her much good, but it made her feel better.

"The suits still camped out in front of the house?" Stephanie, her older cousin, asked as she appeared from the top of the stairs.

Her brunette hair was pulled into a high ponytail and she wore a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that was decorated with her university's logo. The wrinkles in her clothes suggested that she had been sleeping, a rarity that Trish envied.

"There's a woman that's joined them, I think they're getting ready to trade shifts," Trish replied, as she retrieved one bag of groceries and Stephanie took the other.

"It's about time, I was getting tired of the same old faces," Stephanie said with a heavy dose of annoyance.

"Wyatt keeps saying that we should consider ourselves lucky. They took out three witches in the last week without any warning," Trish told her, dropping the bag as soon as she reached the kitchen counter.

"It's definitely getting worse," Stephanie sighed as she pulled out a gallon of milk and struggled to find room for it in the fridge. It was pretty packed from the three other shopping trips they'd taken that week and without Wyatt, Chris, and Henry coming over, the food wasn't getting devoured like it used to.

"It's time to find a new excuse to leave the house, eventually they're going to catch on to this one, and there's no way we can eat this much food with the few of us that are still visiting or living at the manor," Trish commented as she opened the cupboards stacked with cereal and turned the newest box sideways to try and get it to fit.

The door wouldn't close all the way, but nothing was falling out, so she considered it a success.

"We'll send some of the stuff to magic school, as soon as we get an opening," Stephanie told her.

"_If _we get an opening," Trish corrected, her voice filling with the frustration she was feeling.

"If," Stephanie agreed, leaning against the counter and closing her eyes.

Trish looked closer at her and took in the wrinkles and dark shadows under Stephanie's brown eyes. She looked as though she had lost some weight. Everything about her seemed to show how the stress was taking it's toll.

Stephanie had never handled stress well and that was before the three twenty-four hour surveillance teams started staking out the manor.

Trish could still remember how worried Paige had been during Stephanie's senior year when Stephanie had taken on several hard classes, been on the yearbook staff, and been the head of the homecoming planning committee. To top everything off that had been the year that Stephanie's power of telekinesis had shown up. Stephanie had been a mess and if it hadn't been for Trish's mother, Phoebe, stepping in and helping her learn to control her stress and her powers through meditation and martial arts, Trish didn't know if she would have made it.

The situation they were in now was much worse and even with Stephanie's coping strategies, it was still getting to her. It was getting to all of them.

"You should get some sleep," Trish suggested, placing a comforting hand on Stephanie's arm.

"I can't, I've been waiting to hear from Henry," she explained, as she forced her eyes open and tried to look more alert.

"I'll wake you up if he calls. You're starting to resemble a zombie," Trish told her.

"You're starting to sound like Mel. We have enough Aunt Piper's in the family without you joining their ranks," Stephanie protested.

"Somebody has to look after you with Aunt Paige, my mom, and Aunt Piper living at magic school and with Melinda being undercover. I've been forced to temporarily tap into my maternal instincts," Trish quipped, forcing her voice to sound light, although the mention of them made her homesick.

"You promise that you'll wake me up when he calls?" Stephanie checked, her eyes starting to droop.

The fact that she gave in so easily just showed how tired she was. Stephanie and her twin sister, Megan were notorious for not giving in. However, both paled when it came to Patience, Trish's oldest sister's, stubbornness.

"Yeah, I promise," Trish agreed.

She followed along behind Stephanie, watching as Stephanie collapsed on the couch. Trish placed a blanket over her and sunk down in one of the chairs, curling her legs up next to her.

Her eyes fell on the framed picture of their family that sat on one of the tables. It was the last one that they had all together with everyone in the family. It had been taken almost three years ago, when things had still been some semblance of normal.

Piper was in the center of the photo with Leo right beside her. Their children: Melinda, Chris, and Wyatt kneeled in front of their mother with Melinda in the middle of her brothers.

Melinda had always been close with both Chris and Wyatt, who were incredibly protective of her. Trish had always been amazed at how close the three were, despite how different their personalities had always been. They had enjoyed teasing each other, but she'd never heard them get into a full-blown argument like she would with her sisters.

Next to Piper was Phoebe, smiling up at Coop, rather then at the camera. Patience, Payton, and Trish kneeled in front of their parents. Patience giving a glare even as she laughed at something that Chris had done from next to her. Payton and Trish were laughing, too, but Payton's smile seemed to say she had been in on whatever had happened with Chris. It wouldn't be much of a surprise. Chris, Payton, and Melinda were the most mischievous of the Halliwell's and could constantly be found whispering with their heads close together.

It had constantly driven Patience and Wyatt crazy, who were the ones that tried to keep all the cousins in line. However, Patience had been known to break the rules herself every now and then.

Next to Coop, was Paige and Henry. They were holding hands, their fingers twined together. They both seemed to be smiling at the kids antics. The twins, Stephanie and Megan, were kneeling in front of them, while, Henry Jr. stood next to his father, his father's hand on his shoulder.

It was one of her favorite pictures, and she had kept the same picture on the nightstand in her home before she moved into the Halliwell manor a year ago. Now, it was set on her vanity. A picture of her and her sister's taking the family photo's original place.

She liked to keep the pictures of the people she cared about close to her, since she wasn't seeing the real people nearly as much as she once had. Everyone was either undercover or in hiding, minus a select few who were watching the manor and keeping an eye on things.

She shook the thoughts from her mind as she tried not to think about the worry that was gnawing at her.

She glanced down at Stephanie, who's face now looked peaceful in sleep. Trish wished that she could escape from reality for awhile, but she had promised Stephanie that she would wait for Henry's call and she didn't want both of them to have their guards down at the same time.

She turned her attention back to the table of pictures and swept through the one's of her great-grandmother and grandmother. A picture of Piper, Prue, and Phoebe was sitting there as well and Trish found herself wondering about the aunt she had never met. It was still a painful subject and rarely did anyone in the family talk about Aunt Prue.

She continued on down the line and looked over the family picture again, wondering what everyone was doing at this moment. She longed for simpler, easier times when they spent most of their time together.

Realizing that she was returning to more painful thoughts she moved on.

Next to the family picture, was one of Billy Jenkins-Thomas, her husband Jeff, and her kids: Helen, Mark, Blake, and Jennifer. The picture had been given to Piper the Christmas after they had taken the family picture. That Christmas was almost six months before Jeff died in a car crash.

Billy had been devastated and Trish could still clearly remember the funeral. She had always found Mark and Blake, who were one and two years older then her, incredibly attractive.

Blake was something of the rebel and daredevil. Payton and him had gone out together for awhile in high school, before they had gotten into an argument and broken up. Neither had ever been willing to talk about it to their families, and in a similar fashion they had stopped talking to each other.

However, at the funeral she had stopped being able to see him as the rebel after she had seen the depth of his grief. He had looked completely empty and she had even caught him brushing away tears several times. Payton had spent the entire funeral by his side and the families had wondered if they'd get back together. However, shortly after, Payton had announced her engagement to Jonathan Renwick and everything had started to fall apart.

The phone ringing provided a greatly appreciated distraction and Trish quickly picked it up.

"Hello?" Trish answered.

"Good evening, would you be interested in getting your carpets cleaned?" the familiar voice of her cousin Henry came across the line.

"Hang on," Trish said as she gently shook Stephanie's shoulder.

Stephanie's eyes fluttered open and once she had fully woken up, she grabbed the phone. She talked with Henry about carpet cleaning for several minutes before she hung up and sunk back into the couch.

"Is everything okay?" Trish enquired.

"Yeah, everyone's fine. I can't even tell you how sick I am of using code. The stupid things we have to go through just to talk to each other anymore, let alone see each other. I'm just so fed up with all of it," Stephanie ranted.

"Me, too," Trish agreed, "Me, too."

* * *

Melinda ducked under the yellow tape that ran along the edge of the house, pausing briefly to show the policeman her badge.

She took in the broken windows, the splintered door, and the splatters of blood that led a trail to the end of the driveway. It made her sick.

"Can I help you?" Mark Thomas, a long-time family friend and police man, enquired as he left the house, clearly blocking her way of entrance.

" Agent Melanie Warren, FBI," she introduced herself, using her alias, and once again retrieving her badge.

"This is a police investigation," he told her, folding his arms tightly across his chest. She could barely see the hint of recognition that registered in his gaze.

"Not anymore. This is the same MO for a half a dozen other abductions taking place across state lines. It's officially become an FBI investigation. I'll let you and your men clear out, I've got my own ME," she dismissed him.

He took a step towards her, easily closing the distance between them. She was aware of all the eyes that were trained on the exchange going on.

His voice lowered, "How's your family?"

"We've been better. And yours?" she found it unnerving to be having such a normal conversation with the look of anger on Mark's face. Anyone observing would think it was an argument, which was the idea, but it didn't make her feel any less annoyed by the way they were forced to use subterfuge in everything they did.

"Mom's dealing with refugees, Blake's working with you, Jen and Helen are both confined to magic school for a few more years. None of us have talked for several months. Things are a mess," he said, his face never leaving the angry expression, although it seemed to take on a look of irritation.

"Isn't that the truth. Have you seen Henry?" she enquired, her eyes flashing over to the man that was quickly closing the distance between the two. He must be the detective in charge of the scene.

"Yes, he's fine. Give your family my best and tell Blake everyone's okay," Mark quickly ended the conversation.

"Will do," she agreed, as the man reached them.

"What is going on here?" he demanded.

"Agent Melanie Warren, FBI, this is my scene. Take your men and clear out," she told him firmly.

"Not so fast, Agent Warren. I can't leave until I get verification with my superiors.

She glanced down at her watch and counted thirty seconds before his phone began to ring.

He answered it, his face going pale and then red with anger. He hung up the phone with a snap and shoved it back into his pocket.

"You heard the woman, let's go," he snapped roughly to the other men.

The last of the ten or so men were just leaving the perimeter, when a white van pulled up and Wyatt got out dressed in medical scrubs.

"You work fast," he complimented her as the two stepped through glass to get to the door.

"Thank Mom for the years of lessons on intimidation. Or Dublin for making the call to whoever it is that's in charge of the police these days," she told him, as she pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

"Do you know where the body is?" Wyatt enquired, pulling on his own pair of gloves.

"No, I was too busy chatting with Mark Thomas to ask," she admitted.

"Mark Thomas, as in Billy Jenkin's son?" Wyatt questioned.

"Yeah, turns out Blake isn't the only brother who's signed on to play double agent. You could start a club," she rolled her eyes, as she looked through the living room.

Everything from the couch to the floor was covered in a thin layer of glass.

"The team did a messy job," she commented, as she took in the disaster that had once been a tastefully decorated room. "No kidding, it's almost like they want witches to know that they're coming for them," he said with a heavy dose of sarcasm that was rare for Wyatt.

"At least it gives them a warning to start running," she commented, as they moved to the next room.

"How many witches do you know that would run away from danger? Especially danger that mostly comes from people without powers?" Wyatt pointed out, his own face betraying how unhappy he was with the situation.

"It's twisted," she agreed.

The kitchen was nothing like the living room. Everything appeared to be untouched: dishes still sat waiting to be done in the sink, a pot of water sat on the stove, the burner not even turned on. The fridge was covered in pictures, except for one that had fallen on the ground.

She moved further into the room and picked it up. A picture of a woman who was clearly pregnant, was sitting down with her arms around a little boy and a little girl. A smiling man, who was probably her husband, had his arms around her.

Melinda placed the picture in her pocket and used her sleeve to wipe away a tear that had fallen.

She could see the pink high chair that sat right beside the table and a pile of hair stuff that was shoved into a corner on the counter. It looked normal, and it made her heart break.

"You ready to move on?" Wyatt asked.

"Yeah, let's go," she agreed quickly.

They slowly made their way up the stairs and Wyatt flipped on the light for the hallway.

The man from the picture was sprawled across the floor in front of a room that was decorated in pink.

"I think we found our body," Wyatt said quietly.

She felt more tears gathering, but she forced herself to compartmentalize the emotions until she was alone. She needed to focus and she needed to do her job.

"Do you want to go get the gurney?" she enquired, placing one hand on the wall to steady herself as she tried to get a grip on her emotions.

"Yeah, I'll be right back," he promised.

He descended the stairs and disappeared from sight, leaving her to take in the man who had probably died trying to protect his family.

He wasn't very old, probably in his early thirties. His hair was a dark brown and he wore sweats and a t-shirt that was stained with blood.

She forced herself to look away and then she instantly looked back as she heard a sound. The sound repeated itself, soft, but high pitched. It sounded almost like cooing.

She felt her heart rate increase as she moved towards the room the man had been protecting.

She felt sick as she stepped over the body and found herself in a child's bedroom.

A bed with a pink comforter sat against one wall and matched the pink and purple walls that were decorated with sticker butterflies. A corner was filled with a doll house and several other toys that were easily identifiable as feminine.

Across from the bed was a crib, that was decorated in the same colors as the rest of the room. A painting of a castle hung above it.

She heard the noise again, coming from what seemed to be inside the wall.

"Mel?" Wyatt's voice came from the hallway.

"Wyatt, get in here," she demanded.

He stepped over the body and entered the room, giving her a puzzled look.

"Listen," she whispered.

The two were quiet for a second before the sound came again.

"It sounds like it's coming from there," he gestured to a section of wall that was above the crib.

He removed the picture and they found a large indent in the wall that was the shape of a square. It was the exact length and width of the painting, but it looked too deep for it to have come from the painting.

Wyatt attempted to wedge his fingers into the indent, but he couldn't get it open.

"Blow it up," he suggested to her.

"No, what if I hurt whatever's inside there?" she asked.

"I've got some tools in the car, I'll be right back," he decided, leaving the room again.

She moved the crib out from the wall and towards the bed, pressing her ear to the wall. The sound seemed to have stopped for the time being.

Her cell phone ringing caused her to jump, but she quickly grabbed it and pressed talk.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Agent Warren, where are you and Agent Wyatt?" the very annoyed sound of their superior came across the line.

"The police put us a little behind schedule and there have been some complications with the equipment," she made up on the spot.

"Do you need me to send some help?" his voice sounded testy and irritated.

"Of course not, sir. We'll get the situation under control and be back to HQ as soon as possible," she replied, attempting to make her voice sound natural.

"You'd better," he hung up and she let out a sigh of relief.

The sound of Wyatt on the stairs sent a wave of relief through her and she waited anxiously for him to join her.

He carried a tool box, which he dropped on the floor several feet into the room. He pulled out a pry bar and wedged it into the indent.

Several seconds later a large section of the wall came out and landed on the floor, revealing a dark tunnel.

"Help me up," Melinda told him as she took a step forward.

"Absolutely not," Wyatt protested.

"The opening is too small for you and you need to get the body ready to move anyway," she pointed out.

"What if it's some kind of wild animal in there?" Wyatt suggested.

"Then you can orb in there and heal me," she told him.

"Why don't I just orb both of us in there right now?" Wyatt countered.

"Because if I go in this way then we aren't just plunging into an unknown situation. Anything could be at the end of that tunnel and this gives us more reaction time," she informed him.

"Mel, I don't think this is a good idea," he said.

"Wyatt, I have to go in there and we have to get the body out of here as soon as possible. Dublin's already getting suspicious about how long it's taking us to do a simple retrieval mission and it's more then curiosity that's telling me to go in there," she pleaded.

"Fine, but at the first sign of trouble you get out of there," Wyatt gave in.

"Agreed," she promised.

She grabbed a hold of the ridge of the tunnel and pulled herself up. Wyatt helped to push her through and she began struggling to pull herself forward.

"Everything okay?" Wyatt asked.

"Fine, go take care of the body, Wy. We need to be able to get out of here as soon as possible," she repeated.

She assumed that he must have complied with what she was saying when she didn't hear a reply. She turned back to the task at hand and tried to push her worries from her mind.

She barely fit through the tunnel and it seemed to stretch on for ten to twelve feet in a straight line. She could see the edges of light at the end, which suggested that there was another door leading to another room.

She scanned through the layout of the house inside her mind and realized that the child's bedroom was the last thing at the end of the hall, along with a linen closet, which wouldn't be this far from the room and wouldn't be in the direction she was going in.

She felt incredibly relieved that she wasn't afraid of the unknown or claustrophobic. Her cousin Megan had always been terrified of tight, small, spaces. Melinda could remember waking up at sleepovers to Megan having a nightmare about the walls closing in on her.

For awhile Megan had opted to take the stairs before she would take an elevator, but eventually Megan had been able to take control of her fear. She still had it to a certain extent and Melinda doubted that Megan would have been willing to climb through the tunnel if the situations had been reversed, but it wasn't controlling her life anymore.

Melinda's thoughts returned to the situation at hand as she finally reached the end of the tunnel and the square of light.

She carefully pressed on the center of the square and it swung open, revealing a room that hadn't been on the floor plans.

From what she could see there was no furniture, only stacks of blankets and cushions. The floors were hardwood and the walls were painted white. It lacked emotion or character.

She pushed herself forward and braced herself as she fell head first through the opening. She landed gracelessly on the floor and looked up at the sound of a whimper.

Huddled in the corner was a little girl, one that she recognized from the picture she had found in the kitchen. In the small girl's arms, was an infant that was half the young girl's size.

"It's alright," Melinda whispered quietly, trying to use a voice that she hoped the child would find soothing.

The little girl whimpered again and pulled the baby closer to her.

Melinda moved into a sitting position, careful not to move any closer to them. She could only imagine what the small girl had been through in the last twenty-four hours.

"It's alright, I promise, I'm here to protect you and keep you safe," Melinda tried again.

"Who are you?" the little girl asked, her voice full of distrust.

" I'm Melinda. My job is to help people," she introduced herself, keeping the same even voice.

"Are you the angel that daddy said would come for me?" the little girl asked.

" I'm here to keep you safe," Melinda evaded answering, trying to puzzle out the strange words her father had used.

"Daddy said that you'd come in a cloud of blue lights," the distrust suddenly returned.

"_Wyatt," Melinda projected her thought across the house._

"_What did you find? Are you okay?" his worried thoughts returned to her._

"_I'm fine. I found a little girl and a baby. Her father said that the person who would rescue her would show up in blue lights. You'd better orb in here," she thought quickly. _

"_Okay," he agreed._

Several seconds later Wyatt appeared in a cloud of blue lights and the little girl's eyes widened.

"This is my brother, Wyatt," she introduced him.

"And you're going to keep me and Becca safe?" the little girl enquired, turning her small head back to the baby.

The baby's eyes opened slightly, revealing that they were blue, before they closed again.

"Yeah, we'll keep you safe," Wyatt promised as he knelt down in front of them.

* * *

Patience sat in the dark room as she waited for her sister to come home. Her eyes constantly returned to the clock that sat on the mantle of Payton's sitting room.

She continued to feel waves of anxiety as she calculated the amount of danger she was putting herself and the rest of her family in at that moment.

Several minutes later, the door opened and Payton's figure reached blindly for the light switch.

The lights flashed on and Patience blinked several times to try and get her eyes to adjust.

"Patience," Payton's hand fluttered to her chest as she stepped into the room and closed the door.

"Sorry to scare you," Patience apologized, without any real meaning behind it.

"I suppose I should be used to it by now," Payton commented dryly.

Payton was dressed in a black dress that probably cost more then Patience could afford in ten years of work. Payton's hair was in some kind of elaborate bun on top of her head and she wore two diamond earrings that were probably three carrots a piece and rivaled the two carrot engagement ring that glittered on Payton's hand.

"Have fun?" Patience asked in annoyance.

"Not really. You know I don't enjoy charity balls and pretending that everything's perfect, when I have a father-in-law making millions off of his company that hunts witches, and a husband that's expected to take over," Payton replied as she took the earrings out and tossed them carelessly onto one of the tables.

Payton's handbag was next, this one tossed onto the floor, and several shades of lipstick along with a diamond necklace and bracelet that matched the earrings tumbled out.

Payton stepped over it without a thought and entered the closet at the side of the room.

"How is your husband doing?" Patience enquired with barely concealed hostility.

Despite the fact that her brother-in-law, John, had been doing whatever he could to help and had funded the identity changes for all of the Halliwells', Patience still wasn't on good terms with him.

She had been furious when Payton had decided to marry into a family of witch hunters at the age of twenty and thrown away her family without a second thought. None of their family had even gone to the wedding because John's father didn't know Payton had once been a Halliwell.

"He's fine. I think the stress his father's putting on him is starting to catch up," Payton replied, not seeming to notice the tone in Patience's voice.

Payton reappeared from the closet in a robe and sat down on one of the stuffed chairs, tucking her legs underneath her. Her hair hung in a mess around her shoulders after taking out whatever had been holding it up.

"What's going on?" Payton enquired, leaning back in her seat.

"There were three witches taken out in the last week alone that we had no warning about," Patience told Payton, her voice like steel.

"And you think that John deliberately didn't tell you?" Payton's voice took on a defensive tone.

"John is about to take over the family business. Wouldn't his father want him included in every operation they do?" Patience forced herself to relax her voice. As upset as she was over the situation, it wasn't going to help if she started a fight between her and Payton.

"Luke doesn't consult John on everything he does and taking out witches has become such a large-scale operation that there's no way they can know everything that's going on," Payton defended her husband.

"Those are three innocents that are dead because he didn't make it his business to know," Patience spat, quickly forgetting her earlier resolve not to be confrontational.

"He can't do anything that his father would find suspicious. He has to look out for himself and me too," Payton argued.

"I remember when your job was to look out for the greater good. You're probably the first Halliwell in generations who only looks after themselves and helps others when it's convenient for you," Patience snapped.

"You have no idea what goes on in my life. What decisions I have to make," Payton's voice rose, electricity seemed to sizzle in the air.

Patience watched as Payton's hair began to float out around her in anger. It had been quite awhile since Patience had seen Payton come so close to losing control like this. Some of them had even began to wonder if she could even still use her powers.

"It must be really hard living in a mansion that's five times the size of the manor and wearing diamonds so big it will probably change the entire shape of your earlobes," Patience couldn't stop herself from saying.

Payton's eyes seemed to shift colors from light blue to a stormy gray and she rose to her feet, her hands bunched at her sides.

Patience rose with her, a small part of her realizing that it probably wasn't a good idea to take on her sister when her only active, useable, power was teleportation. Not to mention, that she had hoped to get in and out of the house without leaving any trace that she was there.

The lights began to flicker and suddenly they went out, leaving the two sisters in the dark.

The power outage seemed to snap Payton out of her anger and all the electricity evaporated.

Patience's eyes readjusted to the dark and she and Payton stared at each other. She could see the emotions flickering through Payton's eyes, but she felt completely drained from the confrontation.

She closed her eyes and teleported, leaving her sister behind in the dark.

* * *

_Thanks for reading. I'd love it if you would review and let me know what you think. A character guide with all of their powers and ages can be found on my profile, although I plan to place the information inside of the story as it continues. _


	2. In Too Deep

Megan sat in her car, parked across from the museum, and tapped her fingers against the steering wheel.

She felt adrenalin pulsing through her veins as she watched the last of the inside lights go out and several people leave the building.

The two remaining museum workers walked together towards the parking lot, a woman carrying a jacket and a man carrying his brief case. They both seemed intent on their discussion.

They were the last workers that had left for the day. She had carefully counted all who left after hours for the past two nights and was sure there was no one left except for the night guard.

She slipped from the drivers seat into the passengers seat and quietly opened the door.

She immediately felt a rush of cool air hit her face and her senses go into high alert. She shoved her nerves and panic into the back of her mind and slid from the car out onto the sidewalk.

She stayed crouched, using the car to block her, as she watched the two museum workers drive past her in their own cars and disappear around a corner.

Glancing around her surroundings she did a quick and thorough sweep to look for anyone that could witness what she was about to do.

Deciding that she was safe, she orbed, and found herself in the bathroom of the museum. The one place where she wasn't worried about getting caught on a security camera.

The lights were out and she blinked several times until she could make out the faint outline of her surroundings.

Then, she reached into the pocket of her black pants and pulled out a mask. She secured her hair under the black material and moved towards the door.

Her heart was pounding now, becoming distractingly loud inside her ears. She had never been good at breaking the rules, even if it was necessary. It probably stemmed from what a terrible liar she was. She could never get anything past anyone, and now she was living in a world where she had to lie to keep herself and the people she loved alive. It wasn't a very comforting situation.

She took several deep breaths and forced herself to focus. She was a Mitchell and a Halliwell, which meant that deception to help the people she cared about was in her genes.

She moved over to the bathroom door and slipped it open a crack, taking in the area around her.

She could see the skeleton of a dinosaur outlined in the darkness in front of her. She'd have to walk further into the museum to get to what she needed.

She felt a shiver go down her spine as she saw a flashlight making strokes through the darkness. She let the door fall closed and pressed her back against the wall next to her.

She didn't know what she was thinking. Melinda was much more equipped to handle a job like this and she usually did. She was devious, cunning, and manipulative. Not to mention, her powers were far better for breaking and entering.

Megan's power's were offensive, while Melinda had lucked out with getting the same powers as her mother. Megan would give anything at that moment to be able to freeze time or even just be able to blow things up.

If she had just once put her own desire to prove herself away, she might have realized how ill equipped she was for breaking, entering, and stealing. Instead, she had jumped at the opportunity to do something that would place her in the same ranks as Melinda, Chris, Wyatt, Patience, and even Henry Jr.

Just one she wanted to feel like she was as good of a witch as they were. That she could be just as good as they were at surviving in a world of lies and deceit. She wanted to feel confident in herself and capable. She wanted to be able to take charge. Hiding away in magic school and helping her mother and aunts, just wasn't cutting it anymore.

She cracked the door open again and found that the light was gone and hopefully the watchman.

She took one more deep breath before she slid from her hiding place and pressed herself against the outside wall.

Sticking to the shadows, she made her way further into the museum. She listened intently for the slightest sound as she moved, hoping that she'd appear as just another shadow on the security cameras.

She turned a corner and saw the glass cases. The relief that went through her was short lived.

She still had to get what she had come for and get out unnoticed.

She looked into the cases, trying to determine what the different shapes were, and finally was able to recognize the shapes of rocks.

She had made it to the right place, at least.

She thought back to when she had walked through the museum earlier that day and recollected the positions of the cases.

She moved to the one in the center and saw the stone that was about the size of her fist. She couldn't make out the color in the darkness, but she knew that this was what she had come for.

"Amethyst," she whispered quietly, as she stretched out her hand.

The stone disappeared in a cluster of blue light and reappeared in her hand several seconds later. She shoved the stone into her pocket and moved back into the shadows.

She listened intently for a moment and, deciding that the watchman wasn't lurking around the corner, she retreated back towards the bathroom.

She moved faster this time, wanting to end the experience as quickly as possible.

She could just barely make out the outline of the bathroom door when she saw a light coming towards her.

She pressed herself against the nearest wall, willing herself not to be seen. The watchman moved closer and the light swept at the edges of her feet.

She couldn't breath, the blood pounding in her ears kept her from being able to hear.

She attempted to control the panic that she was feeling, but she couldn't get a grip on her emotions.

This was why she didn't go on these assignments. She couldn't control the panic that she felt, which left her paralyzed and unable to use her powers. It was all the fear of being unable to scream for help in a dream, but so much worse.

The light passed by her feet again, this time touching her toes.

The light didn't stop moving, and she felt a small amount of relief.

She began to slowly edge her way towards the bathrooms, using every inch of willpower she had.

She finally made her way out of the light's path, just as it reached the wall.

She moved faster now, quickly closing the distance between the bathroom door and her.

She slid inside, not caring if the man was aware of her presence now. She closed her eyes and orbed.

When she rematerialized she was several feet from her car, not inside it like she had tried for. With the way she felt, she was probably lucky she had landed anywhere near her car at all.

She slipped through the passenger's side door again and slowly made her way into the driver's seat.

Keeping her head below the windows, she started the car and sat up in time to hit the gas pedal and lurch away from the museum.

* * *

Melinda sat uncomfortably in Wyatt's office, glancing every now and again at where they had hidden the two children under Wyatt's desk.

Amelia, or Amy, as the little girl said she was called, was asleep with baby Becca right next to her. They both looked so tiny and defenseless, it screamed out to every maternal instinct that Melinda had. She wanted to be able to take both of them in her arms and hug them, but this setting wasn't a good one for comfort.

This situation was all different kinds of bad.

If anyone recognized the children as two targets that hadn't been either captured or killed last night, then both Wyatt and Melinda's covers would be blown. Not to mention, the fact that they'd brought them into the enemies headquarters and it was strictly against policy to bring a child into the office. They were risking enough to make her feel panicked.

"I took care of the paperwork and the other…..thing," Wyatt's voice trailed off as he entered and glanced at the desk where they'd concealed the two children.

It made her sick to think that they'd had to smuggle the two in the same vehicle carrying their father's body. They had no idea that the body was in there, but Melinda had been suppressing anger and sadness the entire car ride.

It was as if she had suddenly been forced to face exactly what was happening, what she was trying to fight against and prevent. She had known what was happening, but it had all suddenly become personal.

"Good, can we get out of here?" she asked impatiently.

"Not until Dublin goes over the reports and decides if they answer the questions he has. We'll probably have to wait another two hours," Wyatt informed her, sitting in the chair across from his desk, since she was occupying his chair.

"We don't have two hours. We've lucked out with the baby being quiet, but she's not more then a couple of months old and she's going to need formula soon," Melinda hissed, stress and panic from the situation making her edgy.

"I know, but I don't have a lot of solutions right now. If one of us leaves it will look suspicious. We have to do everything in our power to protect them by pretending nothing is wrong with us," Wyatt told her.

"Oh, that's easy," she let her voice drip with sarcasm as she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes.

"Let's take a deep breath and let's think this through. We know that we have to get the children out of this building as soon as possible and hopefully to magic school," Wyatt began, his face taking on the look he got when he was planning to battle a demon. She couldn't think of the last time their problems had been strictly supernatural.

Not for years, their problems had probably turned more to being hunted after Payton had married John.

"John," Melinda whispered as she looked up.

"What?" Wyatt looked at her as if he were questioning her sanity.

"We can't leave, but John can. Nobody would question him leaving early if he came up with some kind of excuse. We could sneak the kids out with him and Payton could watch them until we could get out of here," Melinda suggested.

"That sounds risky," Wyatt protested, "Payton won't be able to get the kids to magic school and we've purposefully avoided contact with them. And, honestly, I don't know if I trust John."

"We don't have a lot of options, Wyatt. Our every move is restricted because if they catch us with one toe out of line it's all over. Payton and John have flexibility that we don't have. I don't want to risk the kids any more then you do, but if we just stay here then sooner or later the baby will start crying and we'll have a mess on our hands. We can't risk anyone orbing in or out of here and getting caught, there's no way that we'll be able to sneak them out to one of our other cousins outside of the building and even if we could it's an even greater risk then sending them with John," Melinda pointed out.

"I'd rather take that risk then have to trust John to take care of our innocents. There's been three witches killed this week because he didn't tell us and give us a chance to warn them. We don't even know how many other abductions are taking place. I don't trust him and I don't even know if I trust Payton anymore," Wyatt admitted, struggling to keep his tone low enough that it wouldn't disturb the sleeping kids or be heard by anyone else in the office.

"What if we called Patience? She could meet John off the perimeter of HQ, and take them back to my apartment. If they have me under surveillance then it could be risky, but it only leaves John to get them off the property," Melinda tried again.

"Do we want to risk her cover, too?" Wyatt placed his head in his hands in frustration.

The sound of knocking on the door made Melinda jump and she and Wyatt's eyes met in a look of terror.

Melinda shot out of Wyatt's seat and into the nearest chair, as Wyatt moved to take the place she had just vacated.

"Come in," he finally offered.

The door slowly opened and Melinda thought her heart might pound out of her chest.

"Relax, it's just me," Chris told them, as he entered and shut the door behind him.

"Chris, you weren't supposed to work tonight," Melinda commented as she placed a hand on her chest and sucked in several deep breaths.

"I got called in, I think they've gotten proof of another witch and are going to send my team in to get them," Chris told them, allowing the distaste to reflect in his voice, as he sat in the chair across from Wyatt.

"Great, another raid without warning," Melinda raged, pounding her hand against the arm rest.

"Yeah," Chris ran a hand through his hair, something he did when he was frustrated.

"I guess that means we can't call you in for babysitting," Wyatt said, still debating their current problem.

"What do you mean?" Chris enquired, looking up in interest.

"The team that they sent us to clean up after missed a baby and a little girl. They're under my desk," Wyatt informed him, automatically glancing down at the sleeping pair.

"Naturally," Chris briefly moved over to look under the desk and then returned to his seat.

Wyatt and Melinda took turns relaying the story and the plans they had come up with to get the children out of the building. It all seemed so much more frustrating the second time they went through it.

"You could always just say they're yours. You and Melinda spend so much time together that everyone's convinced the two of you are dating anyway," Chris informed them, the briefest of smiles flickering across his face. It was a wonder that he hadn't lost his sense of humor after all they had been through. It still managed to crop up at the most inappropriate times.

"Ewe," Melinda wrinkled her nose in distaste, trying not to think too hard about it.

"It's better then having them guess the truth," Chris pointed out, his humor gone again.

"Not much," Melinda was still trying to get the idea from her mind.

"Funny, I heard it the other way around," Wyatt told them.

The look that sprung across Chris's face was priceless.

"No wonder I can never get a date. Apparently I'm in some kind of complicated relationship with my two brothers, who no one knows are my brothers," Melinda sighed theatrically.

"It could be the storyline for a soap opera," Wyatt joked, Chris appeared to still be trying to recover.

"Whatever will we tell Mom," Melinda added, a smirk appearing on her face. It was a rare moment when Melinda and Wyatt teamed up against Chris, usually it was Melinda and Chris against Wyatt.

"That's not even remotely humorous," Chris finally managed to spit out.

"Not so funny when the shoes on the other foot," Wyatt commented.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, that was familiar among the three siblings, and Melinda's mind returned to the problem at hand.

"We've got to find a way to get them out of here," Melinda told her brothers.

"What about Megan? She doesn't have a cover to blow within the organization and she's got an identity separate from the Halliwells'," Chris suggested.

"John gets them off the perimeter and Megan takes it from there. It could work," Melinda conceded.

"It seems less risky then the other ideas," Wyatt grudgingly admitted.

"I want one of us to stay with John until he reaches the door. If one of us could get a hold of his cell phone, so we know he won't be making any calls, I'll feel a lot safer," Melinda added.

"Limit his communications. We can't let him know we don't trust him, though," Wyatt mused.

"How do we call Megan? They monitor all the calls going in and out of the building and we can't risk them having some way to sense if we're using magic," Melinda pointed out, the frustration returning.

"They don't monitor Luke's calls," Chris's eyes seemed to light up with excitement.

"If we call her burn phone, it might just work. It's still risky, though," Melinda responded, already plotting out how to do it without getting caught. It was all the thrill of breaking into the principals office her freshman year of high school because she believed he was a demon. She had been right, too.

"I don't like it, but I don't see that we have much of a choice," Wyatt sighed.

A silence lapsed again as the three thought through their options again and tried to come up with the safest way to accomplish their goals.

"Hey, Mel, when's the last time you flirted with a guy that's thirty years older then you?" Chris enquired.

"Never. I make it a rule not to flirt with guys more then eight years older then me, and not if I work for them," Melinda told him with a roll of her eyes.

She knew where this was going and she didn't like it, but she knew that it was just as Wyatt had said: They didn't have much of a choice.

"I'll talk to our dear Johnny boy and you can go try to retrieve Renwick's cell phone. We'll meet back here in a few minutes," Chris decided.

"Just be careful," Wyatt told the two of them, his voice taking on the tone he'd been using most of their lives. She couldn't even count the amount of times he'd said those words.

"Always," Melinda replied as she left the room, with Chris right behind her.

They walked down the hallway and past the cubicles, where Chris and Melinda's own desks were. Wyatt had managed to work himself far enough into the organization that he had gotten a private office.

They parted ways at the next hallway, both giving each other the same warning Wyatt had, with a single look. Rarely had Chris and Melinda needed words to communicate in a dangerous situation. They had worked together for so long, that they almost seemed to be able to read each others minds and predict each others moves. Their mother had often joked that they were supposed to be twins.

Although the three siblings worked well together, Wyatt and Melinda had never been able to communicate as well as Chris and Melinda did. Wyatt had found his own way to communicate silently with his siblings, though.

It had been Wyatt who had discovered a way to tweak astral projection into projecting thoughts to each other. Half the conversations the three had as children had been mental. It had taken their mother years to figure out that her children were having complete conversations in front of her without speaking a word.

She was brought back to the present as she paused just short of Renwick's office. She sucked in a breath and tried to get over the disturbance she felt for what she was about to do. The idea of people thinking she was dating her brothers was almost better then going in and purposefully flirting with her boss.

She had only met Lucas Renwick twice: once after she had been hired by Dublin, and once at a work ball. She had spied on the man far more times and her opinion of him had never changed.

The man could be charming, but he was also cruel. He hated witches and had made it his purpose in life to see that they were either caged for his benefit or killed. He was ruthless and heartless. It made her all the more weary of his son, John.

She didn't understand any better than anyone else in the family why Payton had chosen to marry into a family that's entire purpose in life was to eliminate witches. She never would be able to completely trust John, despite the fact that he had helped them. Especially, after seeing the father that had raised him.

Now that John was allowing witches to be killed and abducted, without giving Melinda and her brother's a chance to warn them, she felt even more wary of trusting him.

She forced herself to let the thoughts go and take a step forward into the reception area. She paused in front of Renwick's secretary's desk and forced a fake smile on her face.

His secretary was probably less than half the man's age and she looked completely unsure of what she was doing.

"Hi, I need to get in to see Mr. Renwick," Melinda told the woman.

"He's in the middle of reviewing files. Is it urgent?" the woman enquired.

"Yes," Melinda narrowed her eyes, hoping that she looked intimidating.

"I'll let him know," the woman picked up her phone and dialed a number.

After explaining the situation the woman hung up and signaled for Melinda to enter the office.

She slowly opened the door and stepped inside.

The office was nicely furnished, and everything looked incredibly expensive. It wasn't warm or inviting, every object within the room seemed to be selected to intimidate. From, the large desk that was placed in the center of the room, to the walls of bookshelves that towered high above her head.

"Agent Warren," the man greeted her, as he looked up from a pile of folders he had been picking through.

"Director Renwick," she returned the greeting, taking a seat in the leather chair across from him. The chair was stiff and uncomfortable.

"I'm quite surprised to be hearing from you. I've seen your name more in print then I have seen of your lovely face. You're work has been impressive," he complimented her. She felt like a fish being circled by a shark.

"Thank you," she paused, "But if my work has been so satisfactory then I don't understand why I haven't been promoted."

She came up with her excuse for being there on the spot, already trying to avoid Chris's suggestion for getting close to him.

Her eyes scanned the desk and beneath a pile of papers, she recognized the rectangular shape of a cell phone. As if to confirm her theory, the screen briefly lit up.

"Are you not happy with your work?" the man enquired, drawing her attention back to the discussion.

"When joining this company, it was never my intention to spend my career cleaning up after other people's mistakes," she spat, forcing her voice to sound irritated.

"I believe you originally applied for a job within the very group that you spend so much time cleaning up after, am I correct?" the man leaned back in his seat and pressed his hands together. His blue eyes seemed to narrow and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Yes, and I believe I was told that there were no positions open, but there was a job with "Corrections" and the opportunity to progress," she quoted Dublin's words, trying to come up with a way to get the cell phone without drawing suspicion to herself.

"Do you feel that you could do a better job with retrieval?" Renwick enquired, watching her closely.

"I've been happy within the department that I've been working for, but I feel that my skills could be better used within this company, rather than with the field work I've been doing," she told him.

She didn't know how Chris could stand aiding in the abduction of witches, however necessary it was to have a plant in that department. She could barely handle being a part of clean up, seeing what they had done, let alone participating.

"Then, why didn't you go to Supervisor Dublin? He hired you and has been watching and correcting your work for the time you've been here. Wouldn't he be the logical choice for seeking a promotion?" Renwick enquired.

"Supervisor Dublin can only get me so far within this company, and he should have been the one to bring the subject of promoting me to his superiors months ago. It's become obvious that if I want something to get done, then I need to talk to someone at the top," she informed him. The man was watching her like a hawk and she didn't see any opening to try and get the phone. She really hadn't thought things through as well as she should have.

"I have been very impressed with your work, Agent Warren. From the very beginning you have showed promise. So, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. One of my advisors will be retiring quite soon, I'd like to move the leader of your team, Agent James Wyatt, to take the open position. At which time, you will be taking the head of the team," he explained to her.

She tried not to react to what he had told her. It was almost impossible to believe that Wyatt had earned enough trust to be moved to an advisors position, if she didn't know Wyatt so well. There was something about Wyatt that had always made people trust him.

She tried not to dwell on how much more dangerous it was the further they moved in the organization. How much more control the company took of them: monitoring phone calls and movements, occasionally having someone follow them around to make sure they weren't selling secrets, or betraying the company.

"Thank you, sir," she finally managed to get out.

He nodded, "You're well on your way to a successful career, Agent Warren."

"Thank you," she repeated.

Just as she was trying to come up with an excuse to move over to his desk, there was a knock on the door and the secretary stepped inside.

"Sir, Agent Christofferson was sent with some reports that you need to sign off on.," the secretary told him, "Would you like me to send him in?"

"No, I'll sign them out there. Would you wait one moment, Agent Warren?" Renwick enquired.

"Of course," she agreed, feeling a wave of relief. She owed Chris for this.

Renwick left the office and she immediately moved over to his desk. She picked up the phone and dialed Megan's number, hoping that she'd pick up quickly. She didn't know how long Chris could keep Renwick distracted.

"Hello?" Megan's voice came across the line.

"We don't have much time. There are two packages that we need you to pick up outside of my work. Our favorite cousin-in-law will be giving them over to you. I'm going to need them at my apartment for the party later," Melinda told her, hoping that she would understand.

"I'll be there," Megan agreed.

"Good, see you soon," Melinda hung up the phone and hoped that Renwick wouldn't have a need to go through his call history.

She replaced the phone exactly as she had found it and sat back down in the chair, just as the door opened.

"Are there any other problems that you'd like to discuss?" Renwick enquired as he returned to his seat.

"No, sir," she replied, wanting to get out as quickly as possible.

"Alright then, I'll see you again when we officially give you your promotion," he said, rising to his feet as she did.

"Thank you," she shook his hand and retreated from the office, making it halfway down the hall before she realized that Chris was walking beside her.

"Did you get the phone?" he asked, quietly.

"I already made the call, she'll be there," Melinda assured him.

"Wyatt's sneaking the kids out with John as we speak. I took John's cell phone while I was talking to him. I soaked the battery, there's no way he'll be able to make any calls until he gets it replaced. Wyatt's going to give it to the little girl to plant in the car," Chris informed her.

"Good, we need to get Patience to make a duplicate memory card of Renwick's phone and have Payton replace it. The last thing we need is for him to discover that I made a call from his phone. Especially, since he's about to promote Wyatt to an advisor position and me to Wyatt's position," Melinda whispered.

"You're kidding," Chris paused in his walking as he took in her words.

"No, I'm not kidding. Things are about to get a whole lot more difficult," Melinda told him.

"Great," Chris hissed, "Just Great."

* * *

_Here's chapter two. Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed. I would really appreciate it if you would leave me a review and let me know what you think. _


	3. Revelations

Megan waited a mile away from the facility and prayed things would go according to plan.

She wasn't going to risk having John trace her and had orbed to the meeting spot. Figuring that if she orbed to several places any chances that they could track magic would be made more difficult. It at least gave her an advantage to having him get the license plate number.

She'd probably trade out her car the next chance she got, but she was taking every precaution she could anyway.

She'd left her car twenty miles away from Mel's apartment and changed the license plate number before she'd orbed. She could thank her baby brother, Henry, for supplying an unlimited number of new license plates. She didn't even want to know where he got half the things he supplied her with.

She'd left the mask back with the car, along with her black jacket. She'd traded it out for her favorite brown leather and even paused to take her hair out of the braid she'd placed it in for her steal.

It was probably a silly thing, worrying about appearances. After all, how would a braid really give away her being a thief. However, she didn't want to risk looking suspicious and have John piece everything together. The last thing she needed was to be connected to the robbery.

The thoughts immediately made her feel into the pocket and touch the amethyst.

She was still on edge from what she'd done earlier that night, but she was doing everything in her power to focus on the task at hand. She was much better at dealing with communications and exchanges then she was at stealing.

She'd known from the beginning that an undercover op wasn't for her. Between being unable to lie and flying into a panic over the simplest forms of deceit, she'd known she couldn't handle a double life.

Still, she was only a year younger then Melinda, the oldest female cousin, and she knew that she needed to do something to support them. Especially since younger cousins were doing things that were far more dangerous.

She'd started by helping out at magic school with her aunts, uncles, and parents. Magic school had been set up as a base for witches on the run and their main center of operations.

However, soon she'd found herself eager to do something as risky as what the others were doing. With undercover ops out, she'd discovered the need for delivering information safely between people. They were taking far too many risks trying to have necessary communication.

It was her job to deliver information between people and the occasional package. She was basically a glorified mailman, but at least she felt useful. She was probably the only one in the family who still saw everyone regularly. At least she used to.

She saw the headlights before she was able to make out the car. Although, she recognized John almost immediately.

She'd spent enough time studying his family and passing on information about them to recognize each of them at a glance, no matter how brief. It sometimes meant the difference between living and dying to know them as well as she possibly could.

The car slowed and pulled to a stop. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at the guy.

She'd never met him face-to-face and she knew that no one would have told him that Megan was his wife's cousin.

Megan was a secret each of them would protect with their lives. Her identity had to be guarded more closely then anyone else's because she was the one they called to avoid blowing their own covers. She knew more secrets than anyone, other than the leaders at magic school. If her identity were discovered, she'd be a highly sought after target.

He stepped from the car and opened the back door.

She instantly reached for the gun she kept concealed in her lower back. She'd learned it was easier to be adept at normal weapons, than to expose herself with magic.

She released the safety and aimed it at John's head, "Step back, hands up."

"I'm helping you," he hissed in frustration, but he hesitantly raised his hands and took several steps back.

"I get paid for retrieval, Mr. Renwick, not for trusting anyone. You'll excuse me if I don't trust you anymore than I trust anyone else," she'd said the lie enough times that it didn't even sound false anymore, for which she was incredibly grateful.

She stepped slowly around the door and checked the backseat. She could see a figure hunched down on the floor.

"Back up to the other side of the road and keep your hands in plain sight," she instructed, as she paused at the head of the vehicle.

"This is ridiculous. I've done nothing, but help you people and none of you ever act even a little bit grateful," he complained, all the while backing up as she'd told him to.

The man must sense how little regret she'd feel over shooting him. Sure, she'd probably have a complete meltdown and Payton would be upset, but she'd aim for his leg and he'd probably make a full recovery. She was a fairly decent shot.

"Would you like a pat on the back for acting human? For showing mercy to people who've done nothing but protect and help? I don't see them getting a thanks," she shot back, the gun still held firmly in her hand.

"If there weren't witches, then why do you think there would be demons?" he enquired, his face filled with frustration as he watched her wearily.

"It's the way it's been since time began, Mr. Renwick. As far as I know there have always been witches, demons, and people without powers. Somehow none of them ever seem to get along. What I'd like to know is what gives you the right to think that people without special abilities should be here any more than witches? It seems enough people without powers seem to turn themselves into monsters all on their own," she replied.

She pressed the trigger and a single dart landed in his chest. Several seconds later he fell to the ground.

"Hello, I'm Megan," she turned to the girls in the backseat. She'd shot people with tranquilizers so many times that it was almost routine now.

"You're going to get us somewhere safe?" the girl checked, she seemed oblivious to what had just happened to the man who had been driving.

"Yeah, can I take your sister?" she waited patiently for the little girl to reluctantly nod an affirmative before she took the infant into her arms.

She'd always had a weak spot for children and these were no different. She'd do everything in her power to keep them safe.

"Come with me," she led the girl around the car and back to where she had been waiting.

"Where did the man go?" the little girl asked nervously.

"He's right over there. I need you to hold your sister for a minute. I'm going to go back and make sure he gets in his car safely," she told the girl, carefully handing back the baby.

"Wait, I was supposed to make sure that he got this and didn't find out it had been gone," the small girl held out a cell phone.

Megan quickly checked it and knew instantly that someone had done something to disable the battery. She couldn't let any of the others be suspected of not trusting him, although she already wondered if it was too late for that.

She made her way over to Renwick and checked his pulse. It was still steady and his breathing was nice and even. The tranquilizer would probably wear off in ten to fifteen minutes and she knew she needed to get out of there quickly.

She dragged him across the road and repositioned him in the driver's seat. She pocketed the dart and then, seeing the water bottle sitting in his cup holder, knew exactly what to do.

She positioned his phone in the pocket of his suit and dumped the water bottle onto the sleeping man. She got more satisfaction then she probably should have out of the action, but she couldn't pause to appreciate it.

She hurried back to the girls. Wrapping her arms around them she orbed, hoping that her precautions would be enough.

Melinda pushed the speed limit on her way home. She felt anxiety through every piece of her being and flipped randomly through radio stations, not bothering to stop to hear whatever was playing.

She'd flipped through channels like this back in high school, just to annoy Wyatt and Chris. However, it had eventually developed into a nervous habit.

"Relax," she whispered to herself, taking in several deep breaths. It didn't seem to help.

Chris was going on a mission they hadn't been forewarned about. That alone usually pushed her into a panicked, flustered mess. Then, adding in that Wyatt was meeting with Patience to discuss switching out the senior Renwick's phone and having two children waiting for her in her apartment, added to the panic that was her life.

She was a worrier by nature and she was very good at it. Unfortunately, with this life it left her constantly in an emotional mess.

She parked her car and forced herself to act normal as she entered the building and made her way to her apartment.

She slipped her key in the lock and opened the door. At first glance it appeared empty and it took her a moment to realize that Megan and the kids were probably lying low.

The lights in the living room were off and she turned them on, pausing to close the door and make sure it was locked.

"Sh, the kids are sleeping," Megan whispered, her head popping up from the couch. It appeared that she had been sleeping there, or at least resting, moments earlier.

"Are they okay?" Melinda enquired, dropping her purse on the nearest surface and hurrying over to where Megan was.

She hadn't seen her cousin in at least a month. Wyatt and Chris had been meeting with her and passing the messages on. She found herself amazed at the change in her cousins appearance.

Megan's hair had always been a light brown that bordered on red. However, now it was dyed dark enough that it was almost black. It was a stark contrast to the bleach job Payton had done to her hair. At least Melinda could still recognize Megan, she had to do a double take every time she saw a picture of Payton.

"I stopped and picked up formula for the baby, it's on your counter. I also picked up a few more groceries since you've been living on take out food," Megan informed her. Her voice the same chipper she remembered from growing up.

Melinda flung her arm around her younger cousin and was relieved to find how similar her personality was to before everything had happened.

Megan had always been enthusiastic. She'd be the first to take any dare, no matter the risk and it often times ended with her being in trouble. Melinda sorely regretted some of the things she'd put her younger cousin up to.

However, some of Melinda's fondest memories of Megan, although she'd been annoyed at the time, were of waking up to watching Megan flutter around the house with an overwhelming amount of energy. She was always the earliest to rise at a sleepover and the earliest to fall asleep. She could still picture her younger self walking into the kitchen at the manor to find Piper and Megan cooking breakfast and laughing. She'd always been jealous of what a good mood Megan always seemed to be in.

"Have not," Melinda protested, coming out of her thoughts. Melinda's cooking skills were nowhere near her mothers, but she was still completely capable of making a meal.

"Please, maybe you regularly make cereal, but you spend so much time at the office I doubt you stop to make real food," Megan commented with a roll of her eyes.

"True enough. The kids won't be here long though. I just wanted a chance to say goodbye before you took them to magic school," Melinda gave in.

"You mean you don't know?" Megan enquired in disbelief. Melinda felt her stomach drop.

"Know what?" Melinda hesitantly enquired.

"You remember the shields that were put up, making it only possibly to get in during specific times. They've stopped opening up at all. The school is completely closed off. I haven't been able to make contact with anyone there for weeks," Megan informed her.

Melinda sunk back into the cushions, using her hands to massage her temples, "What do you think is going on?"

"I don't know. I talked with Trish earlier this evening and it seems that she hasn't been receiving any messages either. Usually everyone checks in with them and I pick up what I need to know from a meeting with Trish or Steph. It seems they're not even able to send messages," Megan's frustration and worry was evident.

Melinda attempted to process the information, but every scenario she came up with stressed her out even more. This couldn't possibly be happening. Then, she thought of the children.

"I can't keep two kids here, especially not with my upcoming promotion," Melinda groaned before she explained what was happening.

"Mel, I can't go on the run with two kids. I've got to deliver a package to the head of Witches Protection early tomorrow morning and then I've got to go meet with Henry and Mark," Megan protested.

"I thought the head of Witches Protection was at magic school?" Melinda looked at her, amazed at how far removed she was from what was going on.

"He was here when magic school was closed off. He's been staying at one of my apartments. He was sent to get retrieve the package, but the original thief was captured before they could complete the mission. They were one of the three witches killed this week," Megan explained, her voice coming out choppy as she rushed to get the words out. Melinda got the distinct impression that Megan knew the witch that had been killed.

"Why is this happening? Why now? We're just completely on our own, without any help from our parents," Melinda spluttered, feeling tears well up in her eyes.

"We'll figure it out. In the mean time we need to figure out what to do with the kids," Megan attempted to reassure her.

"I can't miss work and I can't just suddenly have two children," Melinda insisted.

"I can't take them to Trish and Steph, they're still under constant surveillance," Megan pointed out.

"Chris and Wyatt are definitely out, along with Blake and Patience. I don't trust John and by default that means we can't trust Payton," Melinda added to the list.

"Henry might have things a little bit more flexible. I mean, the police are all in with Renwick, but he's not constantly under surveillance," Megan reluctantly suggested.

"He can't just take off work indefinitely," Melinda reminded her.

"I don't know what we're going to do," Megan sighed.

Stephanie opened the manor door and retrieved the morning paper, pausing to glance at the car across the street. It appeared empty, but she knew better.

She flung the door closed and locked it, trying to overcome the feeling of being a caged animal.

She stalked towards the dining room table and flung the paper down, pausing as she took in the front page article.

A photo of the Renwick family took up half of the page, one that was taken long before Payton had married into the family. Next to it was a picture of Payton in her wedding dress, a smile on her face.

Curiously, Stephanie scanned through the article and dropped the paper to the floor.

"Patricia!" Stephanie called, her voice rising several octaves.

Patricia appeared seconds later, her hair a wild mess and her eyes searching for a threat.

"What's the matter?" she enquired as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

Stephanie could just gesture to the paper on the floor, unable to speak.

Patricia picked up the paper and scanned through the article, "Famed author Lana Renwick found dead early this morning. Her death appears suspicious," Patricia suddenly cut off as she reached the last line.

The line that listed the two main suspects in her murder; Stephen Renwick and Payton Renwick.


	4. Unsettled

Payton sat silently next to her husband.

She was tired after being woken up in the late hours of the night and her every breath seemed to weigh on her chest. She didn't feel anything, anything but a kind of hollowness.

She could see the picture sitting on the table. The one that had appeared in Alana's book covers. It showed how incredibly beautiful she was and almost seemed to capture the very emotion of defiance.

Alana Renwick had been her husband's older sister. She had looked nothing like Stephen or John, having pale blonde hair and blue eyes. She took after Stephen's first wife, Anya, who had died in a car crash shortly after giving birth to John.

The facts didn't feel real to her. She'd learned so much about her sister-in-law in just a few short hours and Alana still felt like a stranger. Alana was only considered family by John and he'd never bothered to give any real information about her to Payton. Alana was as much a stranger as John's mother was.

Payton felt a sting at the many things John had never trusted her enough to tell her.

Payton had only met Alana once, right after John had proposed. Alana had been disowned shortly after she'd turned eighteen and hadn't spoken to Stephen since, which meant she hadn't attended the wedding.

John and Payton had met her for lunch several weeks after the proposal and talked for an hour before Alana had left to go meet someone.

Payton had easily been intimidated by the intelligent, sophisticated, blonde. Alana had lived with her aunt and worked her way through medical school. She had written her first novel right after graduating, a book that contained political intrigue and insights that could only come from being raised in the Renwick household.

The book had been seen as a way to get back at her father for disowning her and had become an almost instant bestseller.

She'd only had to work as a doctor for a year before her writing career had paid off her medical school loans and she'd been free to pursue a career in writing.

Alana had been an author for years, writing suspense novels and dabbling in various genres. She was divorced by the time Payton had joined the family and had no intentions of remarrying. That had been the one thing Payton had managed to glean from their encounter.

Payton had been young and felt as though she were on an entirely different level then Alana. Alana had let it be known that she felt exactly the same way.

She'd made a variety of comments on Payton's age and desire not to pursue an education. It had been apparent that she didn't approve of her brother's bride and felt he was marrying beneath him.

It had been almost a year later when she'd written a book with a villainess that married a wealthy man with the intent of living off him for the rest of her life. Eventually, the woman had left her wealthy husband, taking a significant amount of his money, and eloped with her high school sweetheart.

The book had been sent to John, signed with the message:

"Some choices lead us to a life of regrets. It's still not too late to back out.

-Alana"

Payton had been the one to open the package and had been furious. The nerve her sister-in-law had in suggesting that she was something her husband would regret.

She'd thrown away the book and later discovered that John had retrieved it from the trash. She'd confronted him about it and it had led to an argument.

John had told her that not everything was about her and that she needed to stop being so insecure, which had led her to being furious and claiming that he treated her like a child.

She'd slept in her closet and felt incredibly stupid the next morning. Why hadn't she just sent him to the couch?

He didn't share facts about the past with Payton. The little she had gleaned from the lunch with Alana had been public knowledge. Her husband, the man she'd decided to spend the rest of her life with didn't trust her.

"Payton," her name brought her out of her rambled thoughts and back to her present situation.

"I'm sorry, I'm not feeling well," she replied as she glanced at the group of people around her.

Two policemen were sitting at a table across from them and asking questions. Most of which only John knew the answers to.

She knew that a lawyer was waiting just outside the door, listening for just the hint of an accusation.

The newspaper article had greatly dramatized the situation, but a lawyer had been called to defend the Renwick family, anyway.

"I just asked when was the last time you talked to Alana?" the policeman repeated.

"Not since our engagement. She wasn't pleased with her brother's choice in a wife," Payton explained.

John shot her a furious glare and she returned it with a steely gaze. She still felt betrayed by him.

"Did she ever voice her displeasure over your marriage?" the man continued, watching them with interest.

"No," John replied.

"She sent John a book that told him I was a mistake he'd regret," Payton contradicted him, ignoring her husband's look of disbelief.

"The book had nothing to do with our marriage or with Payton. It was regarding a personal matter. My wife has a tendency of thinking the world revolves around her," John rebuked her.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to share what "personal" matter it was about?" the policeman asked quickly.

He could probably see the rage that was just bubbling under the surface. Payton couldn't believe the nerve he had.

"It was about her relationship with my father. She felt that by following in his footsteps I'd be making a mistake that I'd regret," John explained.

"I don't suppose you still have the book?" the other policeman asked, he'd been silent for most of the interview.

"I do. I'll get it," John stood up and left the room.

"You and your husband don't agree when it comes to Alana?" the first policeman enquired when John was out of earshot.

"She's a sensitive subject in this family," Payton replied, struggling to keep her temper from reaching the surface.

"I can imagine. I don't suppose you know the reason why she was disowned?" the policeman pressed, his eyes narrowed and intense.

"It's not a question I would dare ask. As far as the family was concerned Alana was dead and to bring her up would likely be followed by an argument, whether it's with my father-in-law or my husband," Payton replied.

The door opened and one of the family lawyers stepped inside, giving her a disapproving stare.

"If your done. I'll be escorting Mrs. Renwick back to her rooms. She's said she's feeling unwell and she certainly looks tired," the man said firmly.

"Of course, we'll contact you if we think of anything else," the policeman turned his attention back to her.

"Yes," she agreed as she followed the lawyer out of the room.

"I'd best watch what you say. You're going to get your husband and his family in trouble if you're not careful," the man warned her when they reached the end of the hall.

"I thought the Renwick's had nothing to hide. If they're so innocent they'll hold up under the scrutiny," Payton said defiantly.

"Every family has something to hide," he replied.

* * *

Melinda read through the article for the third time and still couldn't believe the words.

"This is bad," she said as she set it aside and looked up at Megan.

Megan nodded her head in agreement and bit her lip, a nervous habit she'd had for as long as Melinda could remember.

"Why is it that when it rains it pours?" Melinda asked as she dropped her head onto the table, narrowly missing her glass of milk.

"That's just the Halliwell luck," Megan replied, her voice going for cheery and sounding much more depressed.

"I need to talk to Chris and Wyatt. I'm due at work in an hour anyway," Melinda told her as she got up from the table and took her breakfast dishes to the sink.

"What am I supposed to do with the kids?" Megan asked, panic rising in her voice.

"Take them with you. With you unable to go to magic school you can't have that much work anyway," Melinda suggested, feeling guilty over dumping the kids onto her cousin, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

"You'd be surprised. I've been working nonstop going on errands for the head of Witches Protection," Megan informed her, sounding irritated.

"Then drop them off with him. Didn't you say he was holed up in one of your safe houses anyway?" Melinda enquired as she placed her dishes in the dishwasher.

"I can't just ask him to watch a baby and a little girl?" Megan protested.

"I'm sorry, Meg. I really am, but we don't have a lot of options right now," Melinda told her, returning to the living room and grabbing the jacket that matched her suit.

"Yeah, I know," Megan sighed.

"Try to be discreet when you get the kids out of here," Megan told her, giving her a hug before she grabbed her purse and left.

* * *

Henry Mitchell Jr. tossed the morning paper onto his desk and pressed his hands to his temples.

He'd dealt with difficult situations before, but this easily took the cake. His cousin was the main suspect of a very public murder and he'd been asked to help with the investigation.

Of course, very few people knew that he was related to Payton, or even Paige and Henry's son. To most he was Henry Samson, an only child who was raised on the east coast and moved to the west after his grandmother, who had raised him, died.

He'd been doing his own bit to help the war effort by being the eyes and ears of the San Francisco Police Department. Stephen Renwick had managed to buy off most government agencies, and the police force happened to be one of them. Somehow he'd found himself the best candidate to infiltrate the department. Although, he hadn't really wanted to follow in his father's footsteps.

A knock caused him to look up. He thought through the possibilities of who it could be and wishing that he could just have some time to himself, grudgingly got up and flung the door open.

He had expected it to be Mark Thomas, coming to talk to him about what was going on. Instead, he found a blonde that was probably a good six inches shorter than him.

"Henry," she arched an eyebrow as she greeted him.

"What are you doing here, Casey?" he glanced once around the office before letting her inside and closing the door.

"Megan was supposed to meet me early this morning, she didn't show," Casey explained, taking the seat across from his desk and crossing her legs.

He reluctantly sat across from her and found himself at eye-level. He could see the dark emerald eyes watching him intently and the soft, honey blonde, curls that hung around Casey's shoulders. She was pretty, although he'd never personally been attracted to her. She was a little too rough around the edges for him.

"I haven't heard from her, either. I'm sure that something important must have come up," Henry assured her.

"She has never missed a meet before and if she can't make it she always calls," Casey told him, eyes blazing.

"I haven't heard from her, either," Henry informed her, feeling a headache coming on.

"Something's wrong, something's been wrong all week. I want to know what's going on and I want to know right now," she demanded, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

"Why do you think I know?" Henry shot back furiously.

"Megan said that if I ever couldn't get a hold of her, I should go to you. I can take care of myself, but I can't go on the run with both me and my sister. The only thing keeping us alive right now is the help we're getting from Witches Protection and you and Megan are our only contact," Casey replied.

Henry sighed and opened one of his desk drawers. He retrieved a pile of paperwork and a variety of writing utensils, setting them on top of his desk. He lifted the false bottom and grabbed his emergency cell phone, dialing Megan's current number.

It rang several times before Megan's voice came across the line, "Hello?"

"Hey, Meg. Casey's here, worried that you missed meeting with her," he explained glancing at the woman watching him closely.

"I completely forgot!" she groaned.

"That's not like you. Is something wrong?" he asked, retrieving a pen and tapping it slowly on the arm of his chair.

He could see the annoyance that flickered across Casey's face.

"Mel found a couple of kids that I've been watching and I had to meet with Jack to drop off a package," she replied, her voice sounding tense and strained.

"Have you seen the paper?" he increased the tempo as the thought brought back another wave of stress.

"Yeah, our lives are a mess, aren't they?" she sighed.

"Completely. I've been asked to help with the case," he admitted, feeling slightly better at being able to share the news with someone from his family.

"You don't think she did it?" Megan's voice was suddenly alert and full of fear.

"It's too soon to tell. I'll do my job to the best of my ability and try to keep my personal feelings from getting in the way," he said quietly.

"I've got to go. Will you tell Casey that I'll reschedule soon?" Megan enquired.

"Yeah, I will. Take care of yourself," he set the pen down.

"You too," the phone disconnected and he hung up.

"What did she say?" Casey asked as he replaced the phone and files.

"She said that something came up. She'll reschedule," he answered.

"And?" Casey looked at him incredulously.

"That's all she said to tell you," he said firmly, not wanting to share his personal problems with her.

"This is my life and my nineteen year old sister's that you people are supposed to be watching out for. I didn't ask to be a witch. I didn't ask for this life on the run. I would have given up my powers a long time ago if it weren't for my sister. I'm forced to place my trust with people I've never met. So, it would be nice if you'd quit treating us like your lowest priority, like we're just another responsibility for you. We're people with lives that we've been forced to give up, just like you. Every day I wake up and wonder if today is the day that we'll slip through the cracks and end up dead. I'm sorry if my visit is annoying for you, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep me and my sister alive. Even if that means causing you an inconvenience," Casey spat. She got up from her seat and left, slamming the door behind her.

Henry sat in shock at her outburst. He knew that she wasn't happy with the situation, she'd made that clear from day one, but not once had she ever suggested that they might do something that could get them killed.

He was Paige's son, he was supposed to be compassionate. He was supposed to be saving innocents. So how was it, that he'd ended up being seen as someone who didn't care? How was it that any of them could be seen, let alone accused, of eventually letting innocents slip through the cracks?

He heard another knock at the door.

"Come in," he called, still upset over his encounter with Casey.

Mark Thomas stepped into the room and took the chair across from Henry.

"I heard about Payton, do you want to talk?" he enquired.

"Do you think we're as bad as Stephen Renwick?" Henry ignored his question, staring into space.

"What do you mean?" Mark gave him a weird look.

"The Charmed ones are amazing at what they do, at fighting demons and saving innocents, because they're compassionate. They get emotionally involved and put emphasis on the individuals. We don't do that anymore. We're all so consumed with stopping Renwick, just like he's consumed with killing us, that we've stopped caring for the individual people we're supposed to be helping," Henry mused aloud.

"Renwick's attacking all witches. We don't have time to get to know every person who we're trying to protect. All we can do is our jobs to the best of our ability. People would rather have their lives than our sympathy," Mark told him.

"Right," Henry sighed, but he wasn't sure that he was convinced.

He'd been stuck in this battle so long that now he wondered whether he was letting people who relied on him fall through the cracks.

He absently flipped through his papers until he found a sticky note that contained Casey's address and her cell phone number. It was probably concealed under dozens of case files, but it didn't stop him from feeling guilty for leaving it out in the open.

He slipped the note into his pocket, planning to talk to Casey later that day and turned his attention back to his other problems.

* * *

Megan carefully slipped her key into the door of the safe house.

She held a baby carrier in one hand that contained baby Becca and Amy stood beside her, looking uneasy.

With a sigh Megan eased the door open and stepped inside, setting the sleeping baby, on the floor right next to the door.

Amy set the diaper bag they'd picked out at the store next to the carrier and followed Megan further into the apartment.

"Jack!" Megan called as she found the kitchen empty along with the living room.

He appeared from one of the bedrooms, carrying his laptop and a pile of papers.

"What's that?" Megan enquired as she entered the living room and sat down.

Amy sat beside her, still appearing unsure over the situation.

Megan handed her a pad of paper and a pen from the table beside her and Amy hesitated before she began drawing the pedals of a flower.

"Research," Jack paused in the entrance of the living room as he took in the little girl he'd failed to notice before.

Megan took his hesitation as a chance to take in his appearance.

He was young, probably only a few years younger than Chris. His light blonde hair was short cropped, cut since the last time she'd seen him several days ago and he wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

She had often marveled at how he'd managed to snag such a high position of power. She'd thought her Uncle Leo, or even her Uncle Coop might have taken the job. The certainly had to be older witches with an interest in helping and leading the efforts to protect and hide the people Renwick hunted, but out of nowhere Jack Knight had appeared and snagged the job.

He was good at it, but Megan still wished she wasn't answering to someone who was younger than her oldest cousins. She didn't like to do what Chris and Wyatt told her to, which made it even harder to obey her younger boss.

"This is Amy, her sister Becca's in the front hallway," Megan introduced them, forcing herself from her thoughts.

"One of your cousin's children?" he enquired, taking a seat across from them and setting down his things.

"No, Melinda found them. Their parents were taken," Megan explained, glancing down at the little girl as she spoke.

Amy's lip trembled, but she didn't react to the words in any other way.

"I'm sorry," Jack looked up at the girl, his eyes filling with an emotion that Megan couldn't decipher.

Amy didn't say anything, instead sitting in silence and studying her hands.

"I have what you asked me to pick up," Megan slid the amethyst across the table to him and he retrieved it, turning it slowly in his hands as he studied it.

He gently set it back down and looked up at her.

"I read a report about the robbery online, but it seems to have taken a backseat to the Renwick murder story," Jack informed her.

"Good," Megan offered, not entirely sure how she should feel about the entire situation.

"I've been looking into spells that might allow us to contact magic spell, but so far I haven't been able to find anything that could get through the wards," Jack continued, easily changing subjects.

"It doesn't make sense why this is happening. I don't see any reason why they'd completely close off all access to magic school," Megan huffed in frustration.

"I'm sure they had a reason. I just wish I knew what it was," Zack sighed.

Megan heard a squeal coming from the front entryway and hurried from the room to retrieve the baby.

She grabbed the diaper bag with one hand and Becca with the other, moving into the kitchen to make a bottle of formula.

With a sigh she struggled to warm up the water, while searching for a bottle, and holding the baby.

"Need some help?" Jack asked as he entered the kitchen.

Amy was nowhere in sight, so Megan assumed that she must still be coloring. It gave her an odd feeling of satisfaction that Amy trusted her to care for Becca without following Megan around.

She handed the baby over, not sure if she trusted him to mix the formula correctly. She wasn't even sure if she could mix the formula correctly.

Megan carefully measured out the right amount of powder into the bottle and added the water.

She had just finished mixing it when she turned and found Jack watching her intently.

"What?" she asked, worried she'd somehow managed to mess up the baby's food.

"Nothing," he held out his hand for the bottle and she felt a wave of protectiveness come over her.

"I'd be happy to feed her," she told him quickly.

"I can do it. It's not my first time feeding a baby a bottle," he informed her.

"Are you sure you know what your doing?" Megan asked doubtfully.

"Positive," she reluctantly handed over the bottle.

He cradled the baby in the crook of his arm and coaxed the bottle into Becca's mouth. He then glanced up at Megan with a smirk on his face.

"Do you have kids?" Megan enquired as she leaned against the counter.

"No, I had a sister who was eight years younger than me. I ended up helping my mom out a lot," he explained.

At his answer she found her eyes glancing at his left hand. She didn't see a ring and immediately felt embarrassed for looking. Why should it matter whether he was married or not?

"My only younger sibling was Henry and he was born eighteen months after me and Steph. My cousin, Trish, was born a year after him and she's the youngest. So, I didn't spend a lot of time around infants growing up. The closest I came to caring for a baby was a doll in my child development class. This has all been a bit of an adventure for me. Melinda explained the basics last night, but it doesn't make me feel any more confident in my abilities," Megan explained, immediately wishing she'd just kept her mouth shut. She'd said more than was necessary. The entire statement was unnecessary, but she'd needed something to cover up the fact she had just checked his hand for a wedding ring.

"You seem to be doing alright," he assured her.

"I hope so. They've been through enough without adding an inexperienced caretaker to the mix," Megan replied.

"What are you going to do with them? I'm sure you've got things you need to do that you can't take kids with you for?" he asked.

"I don't know. Mel certainly can't take him, or any of my other cousins and I can't just leave them alone," Megan thought back to Melinda's suggestion, but didn't feel she could bring herself to ask.

She'd become attached to the children in the short time she'd known them and she didn't feel she could just drop them off with a stranger. They needed consistency after what they had been through. They needed people they trusted to watch over them and keeping them safe until Megan could find a more permanent situation for them.

She made a mental note to talk to Melinda about finding out what had happened to the mother. If she was still alive there had to be some way to get her out of whatever place Renwick was storing people in and get them a new identity.

"I'd be happy to watch them when you can't," he suggested.

"Thanks. I still have to figure out where we're going to stay. The apartment I've been staying in is way too small for three," Megan confided, feeling stressed over the entire situation.

"You could stay here. There's plenty of space and two bedrooms," he offered.

"I don't know," she shrugged, feeling uncomfortable at the idea.

"Whatever you decide, my offer still stands at watching them," he told her.

She nodded and turned her attention to the marble countertops. She was in way over her head.

* * *

**_I'm sorry for how long it's taken me to update. Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed. I'd really appreciate it if you'd continue to do so._**


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